


You are Loved

by spaceislife



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Dean Winchester is Loved, Its one mention of dean wearing a binder but its important to me that you are aware of that, Love Confessions, M/M, Married Destiel, Time Travel, Trans Dean Winchester, Trans Male Character, at the end at least, cas goes back in time to ensure dean knows he is loved, except we dont beacuse he didn't here, i wrote this in one day and mostly to spite my mom, im proud of myself, no beta- we die like dean winchester on a rusty nail, that's an amazing tag i love it, this was supposed to be a 10th of the length it is but you know what?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-28
Updated: 2020-12-28
Packaged: 2021-03-11 05:21:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,411
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28379922
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/spaceislife/pseuds/spaceislife
Summary: Cas sighs softly, pressing his face into the back of Dean’s neck. “October 17th, 2005. Do you remember?”It takes Dean a second, fuck that was 20 years ago, but he does. He almost laughs. He had a bad day and his celestial wavelength of a husband traveled back in time to deliver a set of words that almost single-handedly carried Dean through the 15 years after."Yes, I remember."
Relationships: Castiel/Dean Winchester
Comments: 7
Kudos: 155





	You are Loved

**Author's Note:**

> I've gotta be honest, it's been years since I've seen Supernatural but I bore witness to the chaos of /that/ and decided that I'm enough of a petty bitch to write fanfic for the first time in forever. This is the first time I've ever written anything in one day that surpassed 3000 words though so I'm honestly extremely impressed with myself. And I think I've gotten the hang of paragraph spacing. Anywho, on to the show!

Dean sighs, entering the motel room. He wants nothing more than to flop down on the bed and just pass out, but he can’t yet. He’s gotta check the salt lines he set up and clean the machete he used to take out the vampire nest and he’s covered in blood. He drops his hunting bag where the bed is between it and the door.

Fuck he’s tired. But that’s no change; he’s always tired. He’s been tired since he realized that since mom was gone, and dad was too obsessed to care about anything other than tracking down the thing that killed her that he was solely responsible for Sam. 

God, Sammy. It killed him a little inside when Sam went off to college, but he knew it was for the best. Sam wasn’t meant for this kinda life. He was meant for good grades and college and an apple pie life with a white picket fence and 2.5 kids, not this. Not death and blood and brokenness. Dean did the best he could, had managed to hide this life from him for 14 long and painful years. Had even managed to hide the worst of Dad from him, which was honestly more difficult than keeping the monsters in the dark a secret.

Dean walks into the bathroom, stripping off his blood-soaked shirt and binder as he goes, putting them in the sink and filling it with cold water. He looks in the mirror over the sink briefly, long enough to know he looks like shit, but not long enough to mess with his head. He gets in the shower, turning it as hot as it can go. 

The initial shock of cold followed by slowly increasing heat is a familiar comfort. He just stands there for a while, letting the hot water soothe his aches from getting tossed through a wall by a lucky vamp added to 20 years of hunting. He sighs and starts to clean off.

He walks out of the bathroom with a towel wrapped around his waist and is immediately on high alert. There’s someone in the room, thankfully facing away. Maybe they didn’t see him. Dean lurches back into the bathroom, pulling on his old pair of underwear because goddamnit he’s not going to fight who or whatever the fuck is out there completely nude, and pulls his knife out of its sheath that's usually around his calf. It might not be enough, but it's not nothing and is therefore acceptable.

Dean walks into the room, quietly as he can, and stands there, ready to move but at this point just studying the being across from him. It looks male, short black hair similar to Dean’s style at least from the back, tan trenchcoat, black slacks and shoes. Looks non-threatening overall but that doesn’t mean much when you tangle with the world of monsters in the dark.

Dean decides to break the silence first, hoping that a reaction might shed some light on what exactly he’s dealing with right now. “Hey there, buddy. What the fuck are you doing here?”

The man(? It's what Dean has right now so it’s what he’s gonna use) turns, quickly but not startled, more like he’s just decided to start paying attention to Dean. The man smiles. It is surprisingly kind. The man looks kind. And beyond that, he looks like he cares about Dean, but that doesn’t make any sense. He’s a stranger, there is a complete stranger looking at Dean like he matters, no one has looked at Dean like he matters since Sammy left. 

“Dean,” the man says, still smiling. Dean’s blood runs cold. He didn’t use his real name to check-in. And the man is throwing him off. He is both familiar and strange, like a story that Dean was told long ago, and had forgotten about till now. “I am Castiel.” Dean feels like his soul  _ shudders  _ with the name. As though the name should be as familiar to him as his own name. There is a shadow behind the man, behind Castiel. It is large, and there is nothing that Dean can see that could be casting it, but it looks… it looks almost like wings.

“Hey there, Castiel. Mind telling me what the fuck you’re doing here?” Dean tries to keep his voice steady. 

“I am here for you, Dean.” Castiel is still smiling, and it’s driving Dean insane cause he can’t think of what could possibly be so amusing to this man. Dean is very aware of his near-nudity.

“Oh yeah? Why? What do you want with-” Castiel is in Dean’s face between one heartbeat and the next. Dean tries to bring the knife up but he isn’t fast enough, and holy shit the vamps from tonight hadn't moved this fast what is he… there is a hand on his right shoulder that burns slightly, just on this side of too hot; there is a hand on Dean’s face and this one hurts too but not because it in and of itself is painful. It holds him like he is something  _ precious _ and  _ delicate _ and  _ beautiful _ and Dean has never been any of these things.

“Dean I don’t have much time. I need you to listen to me very carefully. Dean, are you listening?” Dean nods. He doesn’t dare open his mouth in fear that he might just say everything in his head right now. His mind is racing but he also knows that somehow, he isn’t in danger here. Castiel is no danger to him.

“Dean, I need you to look me in my eyes. I need you to remember this. You must remember this.” Castiel’s eyes are the most brilliant blue Dean has ever seen. A hundred billion bright summer days rolled up in one. Whatever it is that Castiel has to say, Dean is going to etch it into his very soul if he has to in order to remember it. “Say it, Dean.”

“I… I’m…” Dean has to work past the lump in his throat. He feels strangely near tears. “I’m paying attention.”

Castiel smiles again. If Dean didn’t know any better (and he still has no idea who or what Castiel is other than that he seems to deeply care for Dean so he might not) he would say that Castiel’s eyes  _ blue, so blue  _ literally glow when he smiles.

Castiel leans his head forward, and he looks almost sad now, almost close enough to kiss Dean, and  _ oh isn’t that a strange thought _ , and whispers in Dean’s ear. “The coming years are going to be difficult. You are going to hurt and be hurt. You are going to lose so much that you think that you can’t possibly lose anything else and then you are going to lose that too and though it all I need you to remember this. You are loved. There are people who love you. Your brother loves you. Bobby Singer loves you. And Dean, Dean look at me.” Castiel pulls back slightly and Dean almost whines from the loss and since when has he ever done that? “You don’t know me yet. You have no reason to believe a single word coming out of my mouth. But I need you to remember that I love you. I love you, Dean Winchester. I'm the one who gripped you tight and raised you from perdition. You are loved, Dean Winchester. You are loved.”

Dean feels sick to his stomach. This is wrong. This has to be a hallucination. There is no chance that this is real. No chance that this man is real. He’s dying of bloodloss alone in the vampire’s den he has to be, he must be. This isn’t real but the very thought hurts to think. If this is a mirage, is there harm in indulging in it? If he is going to die here and now, he decides, he wants to die in the arms of this make-believe man who loves him. 

Dean lets his knees go limp, just to feel the literal man of his dreams catch him. There’s something in there, in those impossible words, that didn’t quite make sense, and he needs to ask. Even though he knows that this is just in his head he needs to ask. “What did you mean, you don’t have a lot of time?” He feels weak, floaty even, the bloodloss catching up to him he supposes.

Castiel looks down at him, his head is in Castiel’s lap and he has to admit that it's not a bad image to die with. He smiles sadly and if Dean had the strength he would commit himself to take everything that ever made this dream man look so sad and rend it limb from limb. “I must leave soon. The pressure that I am exerting on your soul by being here is too much. I do not want to harm you.”

Dean’s eyes widen, grabbing for Castiel. “Please don’t leave. Don’t leave me here  _ alone. Please Castiel. _ ” Castiel readjusts his grip on Dean. Dean is laying on his back pressed up against Castiel’s chest and Castiel is leaning up against the wall. His hand is still on Dean’s shoulder and it still  _ burns  _ as though it has the weight of all that Castiel is trying to grasp ahold of Dean like both their lives depend upon it.

“I’m here Dean. I’m here. I’ll stay until you fall asleep how about that. Is that okay? Oh, my love, I wish I could stay with you till my Grace burns out and beyond even that but I can’t. Not yet. We will meet again in the future and I expect you to remember what I told you okay?” Castiel’s voice is the most soothing thing he has ever heard and he falls asleep to the litany of reassurances and affection The last thing he hears is Castiel’s voice saying “Look at you, my love. 4 years younger than I have ever seen you and it’s still you down to your soul. Still beautiful. Still Dean Winchester.” Gentle pressure on his head and then he is lost darkness.

-.-- --- ..- / .- .-. . / .-.. --- ...- . -..

Dean wakes up later from the most restful sleep he can remember having. He is dressed in his softest pajamas, the ones he saves for a really bad night. He is warm and comfortable, and he feels safe and loved. He does not remember anything from the time he got out of the shower to him waking up. But he knows that everything he needed to do last night has been done, and he doesn’t have to move till Dad is supposed to call in a couple of hours for a report on how Dean’s hunt had gone. He lays back down and closes his eyes. In his mind is the most beautiful pair of eyes he has ever seen and a voice.  _ You are loved. _

-.-- --- ..- / .- .-. . / .-.. --- ...- . -..

“Dad's on a hunting trip and he hasn't been home in a few days.”

-.-- --- ..- / .- .-. . / .-.. --- ...- . -..

Dean kisses the demon, sealing the deal, and only two things are keeping him from losing it right then and there. First: that he’s going to get Sam back, even if he has to go to hell in a year. Second: the words he’s had rattling around in his head since before this mess started  _ You are loved _ and those eyes gazing at him like he is  _ precious _ . He gets the feeling that he’s going to need the voice a lot more in the coming year.

-.-- --- ..- / .- .-. . / .-.. --- ...- . -..

As the hellhound tears into his chest, he can hear Sam screaming for him distantly. But far closer is the sensation of being held. He closes his eyes and can hear nothing but the beautiful voice, and see nothing but the beautiful eyes.  _ You are loved. You are loved. You are loved. _

-.-- --- ..- / .- .-. . / .-.. --- ...- . -..

It takes him 30 years to break in hell. He tells no one, but his breaking point is when he can no longer remember that there was a voice at all. He never loses the eyes though. Not completely. Not even when Alastair carves his own out.

-.-- --- ..- / .- .-. . / .-.. --- ...- . -..

Dean is in a barn, Bobby is unconscious next to him, and there is something powerful enough to raise a man 4 months dead from hell standing across from him. He ignores the fact that the thing in the trench coat is familiar in a way that makes Dean want to cry in want of understanding. The voice in his head is back in full force and he leans on it desperately.  _ You are loved. You are loved. You are loved. _

-.-- --- ..- / .- .-. . / .-.. --- ...- . -..

Cas is in front of him, proclaiming himself God and Dean hurts all over. He can’t breathe right. He can’t understand. It feels wrong in a way that has surprisingly little with how actually wrong it is. It takes days for Dean to realized it is because Cas’s eyes were never that cold even before he rebelled. He cries himself to sleep under the weight of loss,  _ You are loved _ playing on loop until he can almost make himself believe that instead of an unremembered dream, it’s Cas saying the words.

-.-- --- ..- / .- .-. . / .-.. --- ...- . -..

Purgatory is cold and lonely. But until Dean finds Cas, it’s just going to have to be something that he puts up with. But at least he has the eyes, the voice. In some part of himself that is even colder, there is the thought that they’re fading faster than they did in hell. The cold part of him asks if he can remember the color of the eyes. He almost cries when he realizes that they have faded to the same grey as everything else here. The voice is quiet as it whispers  _ You are loved.  _ He doesn’t think about what he might be tempted to if he loses the voice again.

-.-- --- ..- / .- .-. . / .-.. --- ...- . -..

Cas is standing over him. Dean is beaten bloody and if he doesn’t find a way to break through the bitch Naomi’s programming he’s going to die. He thinks, maybe, dying at the hands of someone he loves, even if they don't love him back, isn’t the worst thing in the world. “You’re family Cas. We need you. I need you.” He pleads. One last effort. Cas’s eyes remain cold and blank. He breaths, and almost closes his own but decides not to. He loves Cas, and relying on the eyes of a dream from almost a decade ago feels cheap at the moment. Cas’s eyes are the most brilliant blue Dean has ever seen. A hundred billion bright summer days rolled up in one. If they are the last thing he ever gets to see then they are enough.  _ You are loved _ .

-.-- --- ..- / .- .-. . / .-.. --- ...- . -..

“Why does this sound like goodbye?” Dean’s heart is in his throat. He’s fighting back tears. He feels that if he were to let them fall then that would be it. He would never, ever be able to stop.

“Because it is. I love you.” Cas looks like he’s about to cry too. But he is smiling, and the smile is kind. It is a kindness that hurts. It is a kindness that makes Dean want to die.

“Don’t do this, Cas. Cas.” His voice breaks on the last word. He wants nothing more than to force the words out. To say ‘I love you’ back to Cas. Cas who he has loved for years. Cas who is dying except he’s not dying, he’s being taken and there’s not a single thing Dean can do about it. Dean hurts, from his shoulder that bears the symbol of Castiel’s Grace to his soul that Cas pieced back together all those years ago.

“Goodbye, Dean.” 

That’s it. He’s gone. Cas is  _ gone _ . Dean keeps it together long enough to get behind a door that closes, then he screams. He screams like his heart has been torn out because it  _ has _ . He screams so loud he can’t hear the voice. If he has to listen to that voice tell him that he is loved after he  _ lost Cas _ he would go insane. Instead, there is only despair.

-.-- --- ..- / .- .-. . / .-.. --- ...- . -..

Jack is the one that finds him, though Dean refuses to admit that he was hiding. “Come on Dean, I got something to show ya’!” He’s tugging on Dean’s hand, and though Cas never did that it still reminds him of Cas painfully.

Dean grimaces, “Look, Jack, kiddo, I’m sorry but I’m just not feeling up to anything right now.” 

Jack sighs and stops tugging. He plops down in Dean’s lap and leans against Dean’s chest. “I know you miss Dad. I know. I just really think that this will make you feel better. Please just come see and if it doesn’t you can come right back here and mope and I won’t even tell Sam where you are.” 

Dean hesitates, then groans theatrically. “Alright, alright. Get off. I’m coming.” He’s never really been able to deny the kid anything. He’s just so earnest, reminds him of Cas in the early days after he rebelled. Besides, whatever the kid want’s to show him could hardly make him feel worse, not with the kid so eager. The voice in his head has been quiet lately, likely reacting to his horrible emotional state, but it’s still there, a comforting mantra of  _ You are loved _ .

-.-- --- ..- / .- .-. . / .-.. --- ...- . -..

Dean walks into the main room in the bunker and almost passes the fuck out right then and there. He looks at Jack, standing there with the exact same smile that Sammy used to have when he was that age and he had just done something that he hoped Dean would be proud of. 

Dean looks back at  _ Cas _ , wonderfully there Cas. Dean walks forward and tentatively places his hand on Cas’s shoulder. Then he lunges, almost knocking both of them to the ground with the force of the hug. He is crying, he knows he is, and he couldn’t care less. Cas is holding onto him like his life depends on it, but he manages to pull back enough to say “I love you too.” and then they’re kissing. They’re kissing and he hears Jack and Sam, when did Sam get there, cheering behind them. And even though it’s not necessary, he hears the voice in his head repeating its same mantra as always. 

_ You are loved. You are loved. You are loved. _

-.-- --- ..- / .- .-. . / .-.. --- ...- . -..

Dean shifts under the covers as he hears wings flutter. Cas, returning home after whatever urgent business had made him leave a couple of hours before. “Hey there, Cas.” He mumbles. He hears Cas get undressed, and then into pajamas, and then feels the bed move as his husband slips under the covers with him. 

“Dean. My apologies. I didn’t mean to wake you.”

“It’s fine angel. What kept you out so late?”

Cas is silent for a minute, hesitating. Not trying to think of a lie, but not sure how to tell Dean the whole truth. “I was visiting someone of great import to me. I had a message to deliver.” 

“ _ Oh _ ?” Dean says, sleepily intrigued. Cas unfortunately doesn’t have very many people he cares about. Then again, neither does Dean. Such is the life of a hunter he supposes. “What was the message?”

Cas sighs softly, pressing his face into the back of Dean’s neck. “October 17th, 2005. Do you remember?”

It takes Dean a second, fuck that was 20 years ago, but he does. He almost laughs. He had a bad day and his celestial wavelength of a husband traveled back in time to deliver a set of words that almost single-handedly carried Dean through the 15 years after until Cas confessed and then they got Cas back and he was able to confess back. “Yes I remember, you doofus. Why?” 

Cas sighs again. “Because it was important to me that you never doubted it.” Dean’s throat feels tight.

“Hey, hey Cas. I know okay. I promise you I know. But thank you. That was sweet of you to take care of me all those years ago.”

Cas just pulls him tighter, and Dean settles into Cas’s arms. He closes his eyes and as always, hears the voice, sees the eyes he knows now to be his husband’s, and  _ honestly  _ how did he ever miss that that was Cas’s voice, those were Cas’s eyes. It’s the same litany he’s fallen asleep to every night for the past 20 years.  _ You are loved. You are loved. You are loved. _


End file.
